Walt is my neighbor at the end of the hall. He's retired, and he pays waaaaaaay too much attention to me. When I come in, where he sees me around the neighborhood, how much mail I get, who uses my parking space, and -- most annoying of all! -- whether I have ever given my key to any of my friends. This is a condo building, which means I own my unit, and if I want to give each of the Dallas Mavericks his own individual key, I CAN AND WILL!
Anyway, since I got home from hospital two weeks ago, I have become even more fascinating to Walt. I don't have to tell him why I'm home. I don't feel like discussing my surgery with him. It's been my experience that once you get older folks talking about doctors, you're stuck for hours. Besides, I deserve my privacy.
That's why I wish Walt would find an independent hobby to occupy that curious and clearly under-engaged mind of his.
These are the thoughts and observations of me — a woman of a certain age. (Oh, my, God, I'm 65!) I'm single. I'm successful enough (independent, self supporting). I live just outside Chicago, the best city in the world. I'm an aunt and a friend. I feel that voices like mine are rather underrepresented online or in print. So here I am. If my musings resonate with you, please visit my blog again sometime.
Friday, September 30, 2011
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